


Must Be Genetic

by sellswordking



Category: Red vs. Blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:20:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1657955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sellswordking/pseuds/sellswordking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had given one single order with iron clad expectations of obedience; <i>nothing happens to the prisoners</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Must Be Genetic

**Author's Note:**

> Happy RvB Day????? I apologize for this. I had the thought what if Locus killed Wash, and of course tuckington jumped to mind but after that, the idea of how Carolina would feel, no matter what she's trying to do, about indirectly making herself the last of PFL. At the end of season 10 she seemed to go back to who she was, which meant going back to seeing Wash as her dorky kid brother that she had to literally drag along by the balls to keep safe. So. I apologize. I apologize so much.

Her shaking hands reach up to run through her hair, hanging loose and matted around her sweating face. She’s got literal blood on them, and some part of her thinks that it will match the color well enough that it won’t matter for a few hours at least.

_Carolina had ripped through troops when she saw him fall. She’d crushed Locus’ skull beneath her boots while Tucker was busy screaming, all of her guilt and her fury unleashed on him. His pseudo-philosophical bullshit echoed in her head when she jammed the gun between his plaiting and fired until he fell. Person, weapon, it didn’t fucking matter what he was anymore._

Her fingers ran over the scars at the base of her skull, the pain fresh as if it had been yesterday. Maine ripping out her implants, the sudden silence as she fell, all of it had come back in a devastating rush as she looked into lifeless eyes.

_David. Dear god, please, **no**._

_Tucker wouldn’t be pulled away from his body. The others weren’t even trying, each holding on to those they loved and just watching, sharing the same pitiful sentiment of ‘that could’ve been me’ and ‘thank god it isn’t’._

“We did this. Carolina,  _we did this_.” Church says in her ear, his tinny voice somewhere between disbelief and flat acceptance, as if he had been expecting failure. Expecting to be the last left alive. She thinks about Wash leading the Blues, being the kind, gentle man he had been before. She thinks about  _David_ , believing them when they told him dumb things, playfully calling them assholes when he found out the truth. David's sweet smile, his nervous habit of biting his lip when he was testing his lockpicking skills, the way he'd go red as a cherry when York teased him and then even redder when North came to his rescue. She thinks about how, for just a moment, after the crash he had been David again--frantically searching for Tucker, screaming out his name and then relaxing once his HUD told him that the kid was alright.

This is wrong. It should have been  _anyone_ but him. She  _never_ wanted David to be hurt. She is supposed to be the one in control of all of this.

A voice at the back of her mind, one that sounds like  _Texas_  says ‘Like father, like daughter’.

It’s almost enough to kill her.


End file.
